Fractured Hearts
by Alley Cat Sunflower
Summary: Destroying alternate realities comes with a certain amount of pain. Milla thinks she knows what that means… until she attends her own wedding in her very first fractured dimension. Seeing all that could have been is easier said than done, especially when she herself must help end it: more than one precious life will be lost tonight. T for dark themes. I do not own Tales of Xillia.


Milla closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and found herself filled with wonder just as her lungs were filled with the air of another world. The frigid winds of Kanbalar felt foreign to her mind, but the cold was all too familiar to her body.

"So this is a fractured dimension," she mused, raising a hand to her chin thoughtfully as she opened her eyes once more to look up. At least it wasn't snowing; the sky, clear and bold, shone fiery colors in the light of the setting sun. "It's much more like our world than I anticipated."

"At first glance, perhaps," responded Rowen, smiling somewhat sadly; Milla noticed that his eyes were trained on Gaius with some concern, and turned her head carefully to observe him. The king seemed far more tense than usual, as though lost in unpleasant thoughts—though what bad memories he could have about his own capital eluded her.

"C'mon, let's get inside already!" urged Elle, dragging Ludger forward insistently, into the comparative shelter of the city. Milla followed first, wondering in the back of her mind what it was that kept Gaius from leading the charge this time. (Perhaps he had already been to a fractured Kanbalar once before…?)

Upon glancing around cautiously, the first thing she noticed was that the capital was bedecked in colorful streamers and glowing lanterns, and seemed quite warm despite the wintry weather. It was less that the temperature had been physically altered, reflected Milla, and more that there was a general atmosphere of merriment about the place she had only seen a couple times before.

Whatever the occasion was, it didn't seem to be a simple street festival: though an enormous crowd was gathered just ahead of them, easily the size of prime Nia Khera's entire population and then some, it moved in a specific direction. The throng wound slowly up the main road towards the castle, each carrying a small candle, so that tiny flames glimmered like stars in the gathering darkness.

A few people sang ancient hymns of love and unity; others belted out bawdier tunes. Most simply cheered or laughed in joyous conversation; others were silent—but whether quiet or loud, everyone was smiling, though Milla noticed some were teary-eyed even as they grinned.

Milla, keeping half an eye on the rest of her group, strayed to the outskirts; perhaps the answer could be found by examining what few market stalls stood along the side of the road. They did not provide refreshments or offer games, as might be expected at a common carnival, but rather displayed a variety of auspicious charms (and, yes, candles) for sale.

Several of these handmade crafts, to Milla's astonishment, ought to have been found only in Nia Khera; the secrets of making them had been all but lost everywhere else. But then, Milla reminded herself, this was not the prime dimension; for all she knew, Nia Khera was a well-known part of Auj Oule in this world.

"See anything you like?" asked Ludger with a smile, coming up behind her; Elle clung tightly to his hand so as not to get lost.

Milla, turning her head, only regarded him in astonishment for a moment. Perhaps it was simply because he had already destroyed so many fractured dimensions before this one, but was it really appropriate to take such a casual, even flippant, tone? Here and now was hardly the place or time for shopping, and well he knew it.

"No," she responded, glancing towards Rowen and Gaius as they approached her. If the rift had placed them outside Kanbalar at this specific time and place, reasoned Milla to herself, then the divergence catalyst likely had something to do with the source of this merrymaking. "Have any of you found out anything about the cause of the celebration?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Gaius shook his head, along with Ludger and Elle; Rowen, meanwhile, eyed two straggling young men, clearly already drunk—Milla thought he might be ascertaining whether they were a threat. "Excuse me," he called out to them after a pause, and they paused, looking around, before deciding his voice had been a figment of their alcoholically vivified imaginations.

"Excuse me!" he repeated more insistently, approaching them this time (Milla followed in case he needed her assistance), and they both stopped short and turned towards him, evidently surprised by the interruption. "What's the occasion?"

"What's the occasion?" repeated one of the men, raising his eyebrows; in the background, Milla noticed Gaius trying his utmost to blend in with the trinkets in the booth. That, at least, was understandable; who knew what his self in this world was like? "What do you _mean_, what's the occasion?"

"Precisely what I said," responded Rowen calmly.

"He's a little… confused," added Ludger, stepping forward and tracing circles around his ear, and the men both laughed in understanding. Theirs was not a malevolent drunkenness; it seemed brought on by drinks shared in celebration of their reality, rather than a means of escape from it, and that good humor spilled into their current attitudes.

"It's King Gaius's wedding, of course—Maxwell bless him!" exclaimed one of the men, clenching a fist and placing it over his heart in heartfelt and exuberant reverence. Milla started, glancing back automatically at Gaius, though she quickly withdrew her gaze, remembering that he was supposed to be incognito.

"Maxwell _will _be blessing him tonight," added the other, grinning suggestively and leaning against his friend. "Mark my words, we won't have to wait too long before the royal family gets bigger." His eyes snagged on Milla, and he squinted as though trying to discern her identity. "Hey, aren't you…?"

His friend laughed, nudging him so that he almost lost his balance. "Nah, she's going up in a slidecar, remember?" he reminded him, and met Milla's wide eyes with undisguised amusement. "Now listen," he chortled, waggling a finger at her, "you fangirls are all the same. Just because you're all dolled up like the future queen doesn't mean he'll pick you instead."

_The future queen? _Milla stared between the strangers blankly, feeling the eyes of her comrades light upon her curiously, as though she would be able to account for her alternate self's actions.

"Convincing costume, though," added the second man, looking her up and down; Milla finally remembered to blink, her mind racing far ahead of the present conversation. Why would this world's Milla marry Gaius? Was it a political alliance of some sort, or could it be of her own free will…?

"Well, don't give up; if the king doesn't want you, someone else will," laughed the first good-naturedly, misinterpreting her expression. He proceeded to grasp his friend's elbow, steering him further up the hill despite his protests. "See you around!" he called over his shoulder, then rounded the bend and disappeared.

After a pause, Elle turned to look questioningly up at Milla and Gaius. "You guys are gonna get _married_?" she asked, wide-eyed; Milla opened her mouth to answer in the vehement negative, resenting Ludger's smile, but Gaius beat her to it.

"It is likely that the circumstances of this world's Gaius and Milla are very different from our situation in the prime dimension," he remarked with a dangerous edge to his voice—and said no more, merely walking past the others. Exchanging glances that ranged from frightened to amused, the group followed, trailing after the rest of the crowd.

New and disquieting thoughts clawed at Milla's mind, tormenting her, as they made their way up the slippery streets; the breeze seemed to wrap a freezing cloak around her shoulders, chilling her to the bone. It all seemed so easy, when they stood in the sunshine in the prime dimension, talking of destroying catalysts; but now that they were here, everything was so much more… _real_.

And what if the catalyst was Milla herself? The thought had crossed her mind, but she had never entertained it for longer than a few short moments. Now, however, she was forced to confront the possibility that she may need to conspire to murder her own self. After having witnessed the noble sacrifice of one fractured Milla, the idea of purposely slaying another unsettled her like nothing had ever done before: it felt deeply, disturbingly _wrong_ even to consider such a thing.

She would do it, of course, because she must—but never again would she underestimate the amount of strength and willpower it would take to end a universe.

But evidently, this ponderous realization did not weigh as heavily on Ludger's shoulders… or perhaps he was simply making light of the situation to keep everyone else's spirits up. "So, how's it feel to crash your own wedding?" he quipped, breaking the stony silence and grinning over at Gaius, who shot him a somewhat annoyed glance over his shoulder.

"I never thought _you_ would get married to begin with," added Milla jokingly, managing a smile for Elle's sake; she noticed that the girl had been observing her solemn expression with distinct concern in her turquoise eyes, despite her persistent claims of indifference or even hatred.

"I might say the same of you, Maxwell," returned Gaius, scowling at her as she caught up with him; their eyes locked in something of a challenge, and their steps slowed slightly.

"And yet, alternate versions of yourselves seem to have found happiness with one another," remarked Rowen, smiling over at them faintly and immediately transferring their mutual annoyance to him instead: they reached the top of the slope and caught up, quite abruptly, with the crowd.

"I'm just glad Jude's not here for this one," smiled Ludger knowingly, but Milla was hardly listening, already pushing her way through the crowd to find a good place to observe the proceedings. Perhaps due to the general confusion regarding her similar appearance to their soon-to-be queen, she encountered little resistance.

It would have been easier, reflected Milla, to push through the crowd and walk along the red carpet which stretched from the castle gates to the slidecar station until she found a suitable place—but it seemed that no one dared touch it unless they meant to cross it, and only very briefly then. To tread upon it for any extended period of time would undoubtedly cause quite a stir, which was of course inadvisable.

Slinking along the wall and edging towards the palace courtyard, and making sure to stay well away from the front lest she alert her alternate self to her presence, Milla finally found a good vantage point. Balancing on a steplike stone against the back wall, she could see quite well; in addition, should she need to duck out of sight for any reason, she could step down and melt into the crowd.

The others caught up fairly quickly, traveling in her wake, and clustered around her, dislodging a few disgruntled citizens—though all trespasses were quickly forgiven for the sake of the day. Her companions' body heat gradually warmed Milla, and she braved a smile in a perhaps futile effort to convince herself that she could do anything with them at her side. Even her duty.

Her eyes landed on the top of the stairs; several musicians sat on either side of the terrace, playing traditional wedding songs. They wove the notes beautifully despite being separated into two groups, though many instruments were almost inaudible, drowned out by the constant murmurs of excitement from the many hundreds assembled.

In the center, a low mahogany table was set on the stone, as meaningful and majestic as any altar. Two golden goblets rested upon its flawless surface, alongside two glass carafes filled with softly glowing porange wine. But a pang shot across Milla's heart; on the other side of it knelt none other than Ivar, his head bowed and eyes closed as if in either prayer or sadness.

His clothes were no different than usual, but he wore a special hair ornament to secure his ponytail: Milla recognized it as a symbol of religious authority, passed down through his family for generations. To wear it according to custom, he must be more than eighteen, but he didn't look much older than that; this universe must flow a few years ahead of the prime dimension…

"When is something going to _happen_?" demanded Elle, tugging at Ludger's sleeve; he glanced down at her and, seeing her shivering, picked her up almost effortlessly and gathered her close to him, though he could not answer her question. (Milla marveled at his overwhelming affection for a single girl, a stark contrast from his businesslike attitude towards the destruction of entire dimensions.)

Almost no sooner than the words had left her lips than an awed hush fell over the crowd, starting in the public square and rippling into the palace courtyard with waves of anticipation: Milla's heart almost stopped at the sound, or lack thereof. Soon, she would see herself; soon, she would discover if she must die…

The castle gates opened, and four more familiar faces made their appearance; Milla could hear Gaius's indiscernible exhalation in front of her as Wingul, Jiao, Presa, and Agria took their positions on either side of the table. Wingul and Presa each picked up one of the decanters and held it carefully, their eyes trained expectantly towards the entry hall.

Wingul and Agria's clothes were barely different from the usual, if at all—but Presa wore a plain yet flattering black silken dress with red and white floral accents, as if the embroidered flowers were growing upwards from the hem; Jiao, meanwhile, wore clothing similar in design to his ordinary attire, but it was mostly maroon in color and edged in pale fur.

And all of them, even Wingul, seemed so genuinely… _happy_. At the unbidden reminder that they must destroy a dimension containing such honest contentment, Milla bowed her head, her breath catching at the conflict in her heart; Gaius glanced at her out the corner of his eye, hearing her, but said nothing and quickly turned to face his palace once more, just in time to see himself emerge from the castle gates.

Milla frowned: the fractured king wore an outfit very similar, if not identical, to the one _her_ Gaius had donned a year ago for their final confrontation. It did suit him, she admitted, somewhat grudgingly; with his toned muscles and initiation tattoos all visible, she wasn't surprised that he had enough over-enthusiastic fangirls for her to have been mistaken for one.

Rowen chuckled lightly, stroking his beard in contemplative mischief. "It seems you have a tendency to wear that particular ensemble in order to impress the Lord of Spirits," he observed (Gaius glowered in such a way that Milla wondered at the prime minister's unyielding fortitude), "whether in combat or in matrimony."

"From what I hear, the two aren't so different," pointed out Ludger with a wry grin before the king could respond, glancing back at the prime versions of Gaius and Milla. "I'm sure you two will be very happy together."

"_Quiet_," growled Gaius threateningly, and Ludger fell silent.

Milla took the opportunity to evaluate how the fractured king was acting in an effort to discern why this version of her would have married him. He stood at the left side of the table, calm and closed-eyed, under the proud and watchful gazes of his Chimeriad—closest to his female witnesses, Presa and Agria, as per Nia Khera tradition.

But then he opened his eyes and _smiled_, gazing down the carpet as his bride-to-be approached, and Milla's heart skipped a beat as the fractured Milla stepped slowly and elegantly into the courtyard.

She was just as beautiful as one might expect a king's bride to be, her countenance serenely euphoric: this was certainly a match made for love, because no Milla could be such a great actress as to smile at a political union.

Oddly, she wore no veil, perhaps so the people of Auj Oule could better see their new queen's face. Her unruly hair was swept into a ponytail, tied with a red silk ribbon whose ends hung halfway down her back: the tips, similarly to Gaius's sashes, were dyed a deeper hue. The style was echoed in a thin red cord wrapped double around her neck and tied in a bow.

And her dress—_ah_, her dress; it was Ivar's best work yet. Compared to the comfortable simplicity to which any Milla should be accustomed, it was incredibly ornate. Strapless and fitted to her every curve, reaching to the floor and including a small train, the gown was seemingly made entirely of feathers. They were purest white in the middle, but darkened to gray and black at both the top and bottom, with a hint of crimson peeking out at the neckline and trailing along the hem. Her hands were bare, and carried nothing.

Milla directed her gaze swiftly at her Gaius to find that he was staring at the king's bride just as much as his other self, though their expressions were different: his fractured version gazed at her lovingly as though content to do so forever, while the prime one seemed as though he wasn't truly seeing what his eyes were watching.

Somewhat entertained by her Gaius's astonished reaction, Milla reached forward and gently tapped his jaw shut: he started, too unnerved even to glare, and self-consciously redirected his gaze towards himself. But her momentary amusement evaporated quickly; restless shadows swirled within her alternate self, and she stared.

That must mean she was the divergence catalyst after all. It was as she had feared, then: she must die, and die by Ludger's hands. But even as troubled thoughts raced through her head, the Chromatus bearer set Elle down and ignored her protests for once, turning towards Milla seriously and evaluating her expression.

"It's not… her," he said quietly, somewhat hesitantly, his eyes conveying a grim sort of apology, and Rowen's attention was drawn to the conversation at hand: he narrowed his eyes. Much to Milla's confusion, Ludger looked the same way towards Gaius, who frowned somewhat distractedly. "It's something _inside_ her."

She narrowed her eyes at him, not understanding. "What?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. Wasn't that the very definition of a divergence catalyst—something living inside a host, which needed to be destroyed to get home?

Ludger shook his head agitatedly and opened his mouth, ostensibly to explain, but evidently could not find the words to speak; Rowen's breath caught raggedly with a sudden realization, and Milla turned her gaze on him to find him looking griefstruck.

"Rowen?" she prompted, somewhat more hesitantly than usual; if this information could shake even a ruthless strategist, then his must be a weighty recognition indeed. "Do you know something?"

He let out a long, shaky sigh, unable or unwilling to meet her eyes. "Not for certain," he admitted. "But it's possible that the catalyst is—" he began uncertainly, his eyes on the fractured Milla, but a convulsive swallow cut him off. "That is," Rowen tried again, clearing his throat, "it seems that this world's Milla… may be in the early stages of pregnancy."

There was a long, almost unbearable silence, during which Milla froze, unable to breathe. It wasn't enough for her to need to kill herself her first time in an alternate universe: no, she specifically had to end the life of her unborn child, one which would never even have the possibility of existence in the prime dimension. The thought made her lightheaded in the chilly air, and she swayed in place.

Of the two of them, Gaius was the first to find breath enough to speak. "You mean—" he began, sounding horrified, but grimaced and could not continue the sentence. He glanced over at Milla with dull and hollow shock in his eyes, and she stared back unblinkingly. This version of her loved him ardently enough to bear his child out of wedlock, then. How could they sever such an intimate connection so soon after its discovery?

Ludger only nodded once, glancing between the two of them. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I don't blame you if you want to leave this one to me."

But Milla shook her head mutely, and Gaius followed suit; he would need them. It was likely that fractured versions of themselves would be just as strong; Ludger wouldn't stand a chance unassisted. Rowen, meanwhile, raised his eyebrows, but did not protest.

Elle, meanwhile, stood on her tiptoes, craning her neck as she watched the fractured Milla ascend the stairs with dignity befitting a former Primordial Great Spirit. "It's _starting_," she whispered pointedly, somewhat resentfully, and the corner of Ludger's mouth twitched as he took the hint and picked her up once more.

Milla unwillingly directed her gaze back up at the terrace. Her other self now stood across the table from her kingly counterpart: as she directed her gaze upwards, they sat down simultaneously just as Ivar rose and cleared his throat, glancing around at everyone somewhat nervously.

But his voice was clear and bold as the peals of a church-bell as he began the ceremony. "Citizens of Auj Oule," he began, "we are gathered together here in the sight of Maxwell to witness the joining together of the Dawn King, Gaius, and the former Lord of Spirits, Milla, in holy matrimony, as overseen by the Four Great Spirits. Is this not so?"

"It is." Fractured Gaius and Milla spoke as one, gazing into one another's faces rather than at their minister. But Ivar did not address them again; rather, he turned his eyes to the crowd, searching them as if looking for someone specific.

"Here before you sits your future queen, vouched for by the Chimeriad," he stated assertively. "If any among your number deem her an unworthy bride for your king, let them step forward and challenge their verdict." The king's personal guard posed imposingly, staring down the crowd in a very successful attempt to intimidate them into cooperation—not that many were considering taking Ivar up on his order.

But Ludger stirred restlessly as if meaning to come forth: Gaius and Rowen each rested a warning hand on his shoulder before he could move. "No," murmured the king, as his prime minister withdrew his hand. "I know myself well enough to know that I would defend my bride… and heir… with my life, as well as those of the Chimeriad and all my guards." He shook his head with a lingering sigh, dropping his arm back to his side. "To try anything now would be madness."

"Would you rather kill them on your wedding night?" hissed Milla, crossing her arms, but her eyes were fixed unblinkingly on her alternate self, and Gaius either could not or would not respond, though she heard him swallow painfully.

The bride was so radiantly alluring in her happiness, visible even from this distance, that it physically hurt Milla to think of what must inevitably happen. Every shy smile hurt her eyes; every inaudible breath made her ears ache: her heart stung in anticipation of every word to come. This effect was unprecedented, and very distracting, but Milla could no more dispel it than escape the abyss without a sacrifice.

At length, Ivar focused once more on the Gaius and Milla seated before him, satisfied that there were no objections: the Chimeriad relaxed once more. "You may join hands and speak your vows," he declared, addressing the royal couple: above the goblets, the fractured couple extended their hands towards one another.

Gaius placed his left hand over Milla's right, and slid his right under her left: they breathed together for a moment, and then (departing from tradition) the fractured king spoke first, his voice strong and sweet:

"I take you to be my wife, my queen—today, tomorrow, and forever. I will trust you and honor you; I will laugh with you and cry with you. I will rule by your side through the best and worst, in joy and sorrow. As I have given you my hands to hold, so have I given you my life to keep."

The prime Gaius bowed his head, gritting his teeth, and Milla understood the nameless and excruciating emotion he was feeling: her heart wrenched as she heard herself say more softly, "I take you to be my husband, my king—today, tomorrow, and forever," and could not bear to listen to the repeated vow: she simply rested a hand on her Gaius's shoulder, and they exchanged a helpless glance. _Their child_…

"Can you get us into the palace?" asked Ludger in a low voice; Gaius nodded somewhat curtly, and Ludger inclined his head slightly. "Good," he added. "Then we'll set off as soon as the ceremony is over; there won't be much time in between this and…" He trailed off, but they knew what he meant, and the thought was no less painful than the scene before them.

The couple now spoke in unison, passionate in their togetherness. "Entreat me not to leave you, nor return from following after; for where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your faith will be my faith. And where you are laid to rest, there will my heart be buried."

Prime Gaius made a low sound in his throat at the mention of death, and Milla could not help but echo it; their other selves could not possibly know how close at hand that was.

Ivar, meanwhile, bowed his head as if losing strength, but his voice retained its power. "May you live a long life together in this world," he responded, gesturing to Wingul and Presa as the couple released one another's hands, "and may your love last an eternity in the next."

The two members of the Chimeriad obediently poured porange wine into each goblet. As the liquid cascaded into the precious cups, casting a warm glow, Rowen whispered urgently, "I will remain here with Elle and celebrate; I don't think she ought to see this": Ludger nodded in agreement, shifting her weight in his arms.

"Drink now," commanded Ivar as Wingul and Presa retreated back to the sidelines, "and may the cup of your lives be full to running over." He paused. "Spirits bless you both."

The fractured couple exchanged another smile and touched the rims of their goblets together lightly, like a kiss, before raising them to one another's lips; they each took a long sip of the glowing liquid. "With this union, heaven and earth are one," intoned Ivar. "The newlyweds may rise; all others, kneel, and hail your queen."

As he spoke his final words as this Milla's handmaid, he bent his knee to her along with those assembled, bowing his head low: prime Milla and Gaius exchanged an uncertain glance and sank to their knees wordlessly along with all the others as their fractured equivalents rose to their feet, raising their joined hands between them triumphantly.

"My lady," murmured Wingul in a reverent undertone, the hoarse word carrying through the quiet courtyard, echoed by Jiao and Presa. No one else dared speak: there was one more shivering moment of silence, lasting the traditional four seconds, before the crowd rose as one and rained boisterous cheers and blessings upon their rulers.

Fireworks shot into the sky and burst, mingling with the emerging stars—ranging from simple explosions of sparks to dragons animated through spirit artes. Elle stared in wonder and delight, applauding, but the others could not focus on the ceremony; they had a job to do. "Let's go," asserted Ludger resolutely: prime Gaius led the way, his Milla following close behind and wondering what new horrors the night would bring.

* * *

Waiting would destroy prime Milla just as surely as Ludger would destroy her fractured self.

Killing had been the simple part. As they crept along the snowy rooftops, they had murdered each guard in their path as quickly and silently as possible. Milla almost found herself relaxing into her ordinary routine; she was used to fighting nameless, faceless soldiers. But now that they stood solemnly still, waiting to ambush the happy couple in Gaius's bedroom…

She shuddered in the dim light, the icy wind caressing her cruelly through the broken window. Her Gaius rested a gentle hand on her shoulder in unusual and selfless sympathy, and Milla took strength from his touch before reminding herself that fulfilling this mission would hardly be any easier for _him_. It was his child, too; he would suffer almost as much as she before the night was out…

She managed a wan smile of gratitude, forcing her muscles to relax slightly, but immediately tensed again as jubilant laughter wafted from the corridor, growing rapidly closer. She seized the hilt of her sword as though her life depended on it, as well it would before too long; Gaius and Ludger did the same, the former muttering some fervent and unintelligible prayer.

The door opened, and the fractured king walked in, carrying his queen as effortlessly as if she weighed nothing at all. Her eyes were half-closed in lazy ecstasy, like those of a contented cat, as she smiled up at her bridegroom: he gazed down at her with such tenderness that it burned Milla's eyes.

He leaned down gradually, with respectful hesitation; her alternate self slid her hand to the back of his neck encouragingly, guiding his lips to hers. Their mouths met in slow and blissful passion: he set her down carefully, almost gingerly, as though he was afraid of breaking something so precious. And, as pure and virtuous desire finally consumed their wandering hands, Milla could not help but realize that this would be their final kiss, though they thought in a sense that it would be their first.

She glanced swiftly up at Gaius to find him watching them expressionlessly, but upon closer inspection, there was a faraway look in his eyes, as if in longing or regret. As the couple swayed forward, half dancing, Ludger finally moved: he drew his swords and pushed the door shut abruptly, causing both sets of Gaiuses and Millas to jump.

The fractured king immediately stood between them and his queen, glaring at them all and spreading his muscular arms protectively. "Who dares?" he snapped, but his eyes widened as he caught sight of the prime versions of himself and his wife. Meanwhile, Milla's fractured self backed up and ducked down, edging towards the bed as if to hide. She was so innocent, so _vulnerable_…

With an effort, prime Milla bared her blade, followed by her Gaius: as Ludger cast his gaze around the room, strategizing, the two monarchs locked eyes. There were no words either he or Milla could possibly speak to their alternate selves, either of explanation or apology; the only thing that remained was to end two irreplaceable lives, before their own were ended instead.

"Gaius!" called Milla's voice, interrupting the silent challenge, and both men of that name looked over at her: she slid her husband's sword towards him and he took it up in one fluid motion, slashing at his other self with a fearsome battle cry.

Prime Gaius blocked the blow, but grit his teeth as his sword trembled under the force of the collision: fighting not for one but for three, his other self was even more formidable than _he _was. Ludger, meanwhile, vaulted over the bed in an attempt to reach the fractured Milla before the conflict escalated much further—but alternate Gaius sliced in his direction and he was forced to dodge.

Milla ran forward suddenly, though her legs felt as weak as when she had first weaned herself from the power of the Four: she and her king both slammed their blades into that of their most powerful adversary. "Run, Milla!" exclaimed the fractured king, glaring into her counterpart's eyes with fierce determination. "I'll fend them off—go!"

"I can't leave you!" responded Milla desperately, drawing her sword and throwing aside the sheath, worried fury blazing in her magenta eyes as the Chromatus bearer charged her once more: Milla and Gaius ensured with some difficulty that the alternate king did not stop him this time. "You gave me your life to keep, and I'll keep it!"

"You have more than just _my_ life to keep," growled her husband through teeth grit in concentration, grunting and repelling Milla and Gaius with a cleverly timed parry—but they quickly charged him again in an effort to keep him from interfering with Ludger's battle. "Go—save yourself, if only for the baby's sake—"

However, with one sword defending against two, such a command was far more easily issued than obeyed: the alternate Milla, trapped in a duel she would not win, could no longer make her escape. Her prime version, meanwhile, tried to shut our her troubled thoughts and focused instead on the movements of battle. She only needed to buy time for Ludger…

But she could not stave off her reflections for long. In the back of her mind, Milla thought hazily that it was strange that the guards had not been called to assist them—but then, taking into account her own personality, she thought that her alternate self had probably requested that he send them away for the sake of their privacy tonight. Such an order would now be the death of…

"Why are you _doing_ this?" demanded the fractured Gaius in furious desperation, hacking at his other self and Milla with all his considerable strength. "Why would my own self want to"—his blade glanced off the prime king's sword, and Milla jumped out of the way—"deprive his country of its queen"—he blocked two coordinated stabs easily—"and himself of his heart?!"

He did not mention Milla's likeness; she guessed that his willpower would falter if he acknowledged it. The prime Gaius, meanwhile, grit his teeth and did not respond in words… but every thrust and parry thereafter seemed heavier, more forceful, as if he now fought against himself in more senses than one.

Milla instinctively reached out for him with her mind, entwining her weary soul with his as their Allium Orbs linked; an intangible carmine thread expanded between their hearts, connecting them.

Flanking the fractured Gaius, they drove him gradually backward so that they stood between him and Ludger, rendering him incapable of interfering with their comrade's duty. It took every ounce of power and determination they possessed to fend him off: Milla could _feel_ her Gaius's suppressed distress through their link, harmonizing cacophonously with her own emotions—

"Please, spare us!" begged her alternate self, crying even as she fought for her child's life, and Milla could not help but glance over at the other battle: her hair had come out of its elaborate ribbon, and her attempts at resistance seemed to be diminishing by the moment. Ludger did not respond, but allowed his Chromatus to envelop him in smoldering shadows; this, then, would be the end. Just a few moments longer, she thought—

As Milla gave a battle cry to steady herself, her fractured self wailed in hysterical anguish at her adversary's transformation. She could hear a blade glance off Ludger's impenetrable skin; it was followed a sickening _crunch_, and she stopped dead in her tracks—

Her own voice reached her ears in a piercing, drawn-out, agonized scream: Milla's fingers weakened suddenly, and she almost dropped her sword as the link between herself and her Gaius dissolved from the shock.

"MILLA!" roared the fractured king, distraught, and—as neither his prime equivalent or Milla could make a move to attack—dropped his sword. Ludger backed away silently from the dying queen, but the universe did not yet shatter as she expected; her heart almost stopped in her chest, half in sorrow and half in fear. Had something gone wrong…?

As the alternate Gaius knelt by his wife's side, the prime king looked with glazed eyes and open mouth at the scene before him, but then forced his gaze away and strode towards the door, shifting his hilt in his hand in preparation to fend off any guards. Milla—trembling from top to toe as her own shriek faded in and out of her ears—reflected that in comparison to _this_, even dueling the entire Chimeriad would likely seem a blessing.

After a long silence, she opened her eyes, though she did not know when she had closed them… and found that once she took in the sight of her alternate self, she was powerless to look away. The ill-fated queen's eyes were unfocused; a grimace pulled at her mouth. Crimson seeped through the center of her gown like a blossom, pooling beneath her.

A few feathers, black and white and gray stained red, lay scattered on the floor, stirring in a faint breeze as the fractured king drew her gently into his lap. "And where you are laid to rest, there will my heart be buried," he murmured hoarsely, bowing his head as he restated the vows he had taken such a short time ago, and softly tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her ear.

She raised a tremulous hand to his face, perhaps brushing away a tear, and smudged it gently with red: Milla realized that it was _her _blood that dripped from her fingers, and almost retched. "May our love last an eternity in the next…" whispered the queen, her ragged breaths barely audible. Her eyes shone with overwhelming and sorrowful affection as they closed slowly, and her arm fell back to her side as she gave a final sigh and was eternally still.

"_Milla_," breathed the fractured Gaius in desolation, clutching her body to his chest with an irrepressible sob of despair. But he didn't stay vulnerable for long; after several silent seconds but for his quiet weeping, he picked up the body and rested it on his bed as if afraid to disturb her. (Scarlet soaked steadily into the sheets.)

After gazing down tenderly at her face for one more moment, taking his last look, he stooped to grasp the hilt of his sword once more.

The last thing Milla saw before the dimension finally shattered was the alternate Gaius staring up at her. With his cheekbone smeared red and despondent hatred in his lachrymose gaze, he looked as though he were trying to decide the best way to make her suffer as much as the other version of herself.

Little did he know it had already been done.

* * *

Milla wasn't aware of how weak she felt until she swayed in place, her knees almost buckling. The three of them—two, as Ludger silently took his leave to find Rowen and Elle—still stood in Gaius's bedroom, though pale morning light now streamed in through the unbroken glass, made paler by the ever-present snow glowing in the garden outside.

But no amount of sun could lighten the shadow that had fallen over her heart. She had destroyed her own happiness as well as Gaius's, and murdered her own child. Though Ludger had been the one to strike the killing blow, Milla had still ensured it would be possible. She had conspired against herself and committed one of the highest sins in the Book of Maxwell: slaying not one being, but two.

She was drawn out of her thoughts as a coat was draped carefully around her shoulders, and she looked up, startled, to find her—_the_—Gaius standing there. Staring hollowly into his face, she noticed that his eyes were filled not only with the dull shock that she had expected, but also with gentle concern.

And then, she understood for the first time why any self of hers ever would have married such a man. He was no Jude…but he _was_ chivalrous and just and strong.

"Thank you," muttered Milla, her throat and mouth both unbearably dry, and pulled his warm jacket around herself, shivering: he did not move, merely regarded her carefully as if gauging her inarticulate emotions. Her alternate self's screech of pain and distress echoed in her ears once more as if from a distance, an unending sound that she was certain would haunt her nightmares.

Unbidden, she recalled her own joyful smiles and laughs as her fate was intertwined with that of the king—the torment in familiar fuchsia eyes as she fought to protect herself and their innocent baby—the blood that stained their wedding bed, instead of the sweat of lust—

Milla sniffled, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe; her throat ached and her vision swam, and she realized with some bewilderment that she was… crying. When was the last time she had cried? Had she _ever _cried? She bowed her head self-consciously, trying to hide her unexpected tears from the world—but Gaius let out a long, shuddering sigh, still standing next to her, and the single melancholy breath moved her heart.

At the mournful sound, she whimpered helplessly and looked up at him with overflowing eyes, the last of her strength ebbing away as she took in the quiet grief of his expression. Today's loss was so deeply and heart-wrenchingly _personal_ that she could not possibly wait until she was alone to deal with her emotions: these tears would fall here and now, and there was little she could do to stop them.

Gaius reached his bare fingers towards her as though meaning to wipe them away, a similar gesture to that which their alternate selves had done with roles reversed—but then he hesitated and withdrew his hand before he could touch her, mumbling what might have been an apology.

But Milla needed that kind of contact; she _needed_, more than anything, to convince herself in some palpable way that she was not alone. To bear the burden of such trauma on her own, with only cool and distant sympathy from her well-meaning comrades, would never be enough to soothe her troubled heart. But it had been Gaius's child, too: he knew whereof she wept, and she marveled at his strength, until she remembered that he'd had time to get used to the idea of tragedy; he'd helped destroy dimensions before this one.

How many universes' deaths had he seen, and how many would Milla yet have to see? Giving a coughlike sob, she squeezed her eyes shut. Before she could stop herself, bowing her head and stumbling forward with uncharacteristic clumsiness, she buried her face in Gaius's chest and cried into his heart.

Milla could feel him stop breathing momentarily as she slid her arms around his torso, and his heartbeat slowed down beneath hers—but eventually, a warm and lingering sigh stirred her hair. Gaius rested one of his hands on the back of her head, interweaving his fingers in her messy hair, and the other slipped around her side and traced gentle circles on her shoulderblade.

No sympathetic words were needed, and any scripted condolences would feel insincere; their mere presence was comfort enough, and true. As Milla took strength from his proximity, she could feel him taking strength from hers, even without a link: their fractured child may be gone, and could never exist in the prime dimension—but _they_ were still alive, and their lives would go on.

After what may well have been several minutes, Gaius rested his chin on Milla's head, but quickly jerked it up again; his throat vibrated with a low apology, but she only shook her head by way of acceptance and stepped away from him somewhat reluctantly, the spell broken.

She could only imagine how awful she looked, with blotchy face and runny nose and eyes pink through and through—but Gaius didn't seem to mind and only offered her a handkerchief, turning away and crossing his arms as she wiped her face and blew her nose.

"We should find the others," he announced unreadably, "before they find us first. Do you still need some time?" As Gaius glanced at her over his shoulder, Milla nodded, crumpling the sodden handkerchief in her hand; not knowing what else to do with it and having no pockets, she burned it with a brief spirit arte.

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, and she wondered suddenly if that had been rude. "S-sorry," she tried to say, but almost choked on a sudden, enormous yawn. Her ordinarily voracious appetite had not yet returned, still kept in check by vivid memories of blood and desperation… but exhaustion, both emotional and physical, was beginning to get the better of her, despite the earliness of the hour.

Gaius shook his head as if to say she needn't apologize. "You should rest," he suggested, turning to gesture somewhat hesitantly towards his bed—but Milla's eyes welled up anew as she remembered how her own corpse had been lain to rest in that very spot, thick crimson liquid seeping into the crisp white sheets…

Seeing her eyes widen in residue horror, Gaius inclined his head slightly. "As you wish," he said, shifting from foot to foot. "If you're going to stay here, I'll bring you some tea," he added eventually, and as Milla realized distractedly that there was a questioning edge to his voice, she nodded abruptly in response.

He bowed briefly and, after another hesitation, departed. Milla's legs trembled beneath her warningly, and she quickly took the few steps over to his bed and sat gingerly down on its edge, as though it would hurt her.

But she found instead that the mattress was soft, firm, and inviting. Tugging Gaius's coat tighter around her shoulders and breathing in its inexplicably comforting scent, Milla reflected that among such a giving group, she needn't worry about loneliness. She would _never_ be alone; she would always have her companions…

…Especially Jude; she would always have Jude, and he would always have her. Part of her wanted to keep from him that she had killed herself and her child, if only to spare him the pain of knowing what she had done; it was impossible for him to fully understand how sorry she was, and in what ways…

…_Today, tomorrow, and forever_…

…Milla had only time to wonder hazily when exactly she had lain down before her eyes closed as if against her will, and—no longer conscious enough to consider the propriety of sleeping in the king's bed—she slipped almost immediately into a thankfully dreamless slumber.

_(When Gaius returned with the tea a few minutes later, he was not surprised to find that Milla had fallen asleep—and reflected somewhat sadly, as he set down the tray and took a contemplative sip of tea, that his alternate self had chosen better than he ever could: his bed suited her.)_


End file.
